Little Lassie Lost
by Kkarrie
Summary: Shawn shows up at a crime scene and something isn't right. Where's Lassie and why does everyone insist that they've never even heard of him? Is Gus playing the worst prank in history, or is there something in Lassiter's past that has gone seriously wrong?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I started this story about six months ago and posted it under the same title. I got bogged down in the plot, so I pulled it from the archive, reworked my story and am really excited with how it turned out. Hope you guys like it too.

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"How amazing is the color on this thing?" Shawn asked Gus, shoving the brightly colored contents of his smoothie cup under his best friend's nose. "I mean, Picasso himself couldn't have made a better color."

"It looks more like a Jackson Pollack." Gus wrinkled his nose. "Why did you let the girl convince you to put kiwi and oranges in it?"

"Because, Gus, it tastes amazing." Shawn took a long sip and then cocked his head to the side as he stared at the crime scene in front of them. "Besides, you know how much it irritates Lassie when I drink smoothies at the crime scene." He grinned and headed for the taped off entrance to the candy store, completely missing the confused look on his friend's face.

Shawn ducked under the tape and looked around. The cops were rounding up witnesses and evidence. Juliet had called the Psych office asking Shawn to come down a do a reading at the scene. The cash register was open, the clerk was lying on the floor behind the counter, shot in the chest.

"The call came in around 10:30," Juliet came over to them, notebook in hand. "The only witness was the other worker, but he was in the back when the robber came in."

Shawn frowned, looking at the security cameras and then to the cash drawer. Something was off, but Shawn couldn't quite place his finger on it. Then he noticed the blood spatter across the register keys, but not the inside of the drawer itself. He smirked and raised a hand to his temple.

"The drawer was opened after poor Charlie here was shot." He intoned.

"The victim's name is Anthony Riley," another female voice interrupted.

Shawn's eyes snapped open and he swiveled on the spot. "Detective Barry?" The last Shawn knew, Barry was working in Sacramento, and they were nowhere close to being in her jurisdiction.

"That's Head Detective Barry," she corrected him, crossing her arms. "Now what makes you think the drawer was opened after the shooting?"

"George Washington is telling me that he never saw blood." Shawn brushed off her question, more concerned with the fact she was there in the first place. "What are you doing here?"

Barry raised an eyebrow. "I work here, Spencer."

"Shawn," Gus whispered, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "Don't push it."

"No, I mean what are _you _doing here, where's Lassie? Is he sick?"

"Lassie is probably saving Timmy from a well," Barry was getting visibly frustrated. "Now either give us a suspect or get the hell out of my crime scene."

"You're looking for someone who would have known how to open the drawer, try the kid from the back." Shawn told her. "And don't bother with the camera because it isn't even hooked up." He kept looking around the crime scene. "Now that you have your suspect, can you tell me why no one told me it was play a joke at work day?"

Gus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the crime tape. "Shawn, do not get us kicked out of the crime scene again." He hissed.

"Hey, c'mon, what's with the iron grip?" Shawn pulled out of the hold Gus had on his arm.

"I'm serious, Shawn, the last time you caused a ruckus Barry wouldn't let the chief call us for two months. You know we have to pay the bills."

"You are the worst liar ever!" Shawn shook his head. "Plus, I can't believe you got Barry to agree to be part of this elaborate hoax. Is this because I super glued Lassie's desk drawer shut yesterday and swapped the salt and sugar packets the day before?"

"Practical joke?" Gus looked confused. "Shawn, you're being weird," he pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Do you want a ride to the office or can I just head out on my route now?"

"I thought we were going goofy golfing?" Shawn frowned.

"This weekend, I just got a bunch of new samples in." Gus promised.

"Fine, go peddle your creams and ointments," Shawn snapped. "See if I care that you and Lassie are the worst joke players in the world. This tops the time that you changed all the clocks in my house trying to convince me I'd traveled to Europe."

"That was in the fourth grade," Gus snapped back, frustrated. "Just go watch TV or something."

"You can't tell me what to do!" Shawn shouted after him as Gus pulled out of the parking lot. "See if I care," he grumbled, sipping his smoothie.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

After a night of Simon and Simon and sleeping on the Psych couch, Shawn was heading to the station to pick up his paycheck and rub the fact that the joke was horrible in Lassie's face.

He ran up the station steps to help Juliet, who was balancing two coffees, a bagel and her purse, while trying to get inside.

"Let me get that," Shawn grabbed the door and held it for her.

"Thanks," Juliet flashed a smile. "I got stuck in line at Starbucks, and you know how the head detective gets when the coffee is late."

"How is that different than normal," Shawn winked. "Besides, I thought Lassidoodle told you that cops didn't have to stand in line."

"What?" Juliet looked confused, but she didn't get a chance to ask Shawn what he meant when Gus came up to them.

"Don't you have a pharmaceuticals route to attend to?" Shawn scowled a little. "Or are you too busy plotting new jokes?"

"I'm here to make sure that our paycheck goes towards the electric bill instead of a new video game." Gus shook his head.

Juliet gave them a concerned look. "What's going on? Are you guys fighting again?"

"We're not fighting, Gus is just being a child about admitting that his jokes suck." Shawn thought for a second. "That might not be fair though, because this could have been Lassiter's idea."

"Who is this Lattimer you keep bringing up?" Gus was starting to share Juliet's concerned look.

"Lassiter," Shawn corrected him. "Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD?" Shawn looked between them. "Jules' partner, drinks three creams and four sugars in his coffee, hates squirrels."

"Shawn, maybe you should take the day off," Juliet ventured. "Your jokes aren't funny like they usually are." She glanced over her shoulder and headed for her desk.

"Buddy," Shawn pleaded, turning to Gus. "You know I wouldn't make up a fictional policeman."

"I know," Gus nodded, still looking worried. "But we've never worked with a Carlton Lassiter."

"Yes, yes we did," Shawn was pacing back and forth. "He hauled me down to the station because he thought I was involved in a crime and to save myself from being arrested, I told him I was a psychic."

"No, that was Barry. Barry took you down to the station. Are you feeling alright?"

"I AM FINE!" Shawn shouted, attracting the attention of the policemen at the front desk. "Look, I'll prove it to you."

"Shawn, I was going to finish up my route today."

"Give me five minutes, I'll buy you a candy bar."

"Fine, five minutes," Gus sighed.

Shawn smiled triumphantly and lead the way up the stairs to the bullpen. He saw Juliet sitting at her desk, coffee in front of her. He turned to the right where Lassiter's desk sat near the post.

Instead of the head detective's desk with the stack of post-its and the personal mug, the desk now held a desk calendar, and a plant. The name plate on the front read Head Detective Lucinda Barry.

Gus caught up with Shawn. "See, Barry's desk," he pointed to the name plate.

Shawn started going around to every desk. "Gus, this doesn't make sense. Why would you guys go to this length to play a joke on me?"

"It isn't a practical joke," Gus told him.

"Not a practical joke?" Shawn gave a half laugh. "Then why is Barry's stuff here. Where's the "shoot first and ask questions later mug"? Or did you all decide to lie to me today?"

"We're not lying to you." Juliet came over to them. "We're worried about you."

"Well, I'm worried too!" Shawn told her when he saw Barry coming over towards them.

"You always need to be the center of attention, Spencer, but this is taking a bit too far." Barry snapped. "You're interrupting O'Hara's work and distracting half the station."

"Where is Lassiter?" Shawn was getting frustrated and his voice cracked near the end. He turned to the rest of the room, which was focused completely on the psychic. "Can anyone tell me where Carlton Lassiter is? Anyone? Bueller? I'm sure you know Lassiter, he's Irish, grumpy, likes to shoot guns. He even slept with Barry about five years ago." His voice rose with every sentence.

Barry's hand strayed near her gun at that last statement.

"That must be why he liked you so much. You both love to shoot things." Shawn was still yelling.

"Mr. Spencer," the chief's voice rang out across the room and Shawn turned to see her standing just inside the door to her office. "A word," she headed for her desk.

Shawn clenched his jaw and headed for the office.

"Just keep your cool," Gus whispered to him. "I have to finish my route, and you owe me a candy bar." He gave Shawn a tiny fist bump and then headed for the door.

One last look over his shoulder gave Shawn a view of the entire station watching him. A few ducked their heads and headed back to work, but Barry and Juliet stood watching.

"Chief, you wanted to see me," Shawn was all business as he sat down in front of her desk.  
>If she was going to play along with this ridiculously lame and dragged out excuse for a prank then he would to.<p>

"What is wrong with you, Mr. Spencer?" The chief was shaking her head at him. "If you ever cause that kind of a scene in my station again I will have you kicked out."

"I just want answers," Shawn told her. "I want to know why Detective Barry is here and where Lassiter is."

"Detective Barry is the finest detective I have on the force. She's been head detective since 2006." The chief frowned. "You should know that, she's the one who questioned you in regards to those tips you gave us."

"Yes, she was there, but she was partners with Carlton Lassiter and he was head detective, not Barry. She was sleeping with him and I told everyone and she got transferred."

"That could be considered libel and I will not tolerate rumors like that." The chief snapped. "Lucinda is married to a lovely man named David."

"Fine, maybe they're not lovers, but people don't disappear, Chief. I want to know what happened to Lassiter and why you're playing along with Gus and this charade."

"You keep talking about Lassiter, but I can assure you, Mr. Spencer, there is no one employed by the police department named Lassiter."

"He's got to be in the system," Shawn protested. "I remember him being here when my dad arrested me. His name is probably on my case report."

"I will not allow you to pull your own arrest reports to satisfy some weird obsession." Vick told him. "Now I think you need to go home and rest. May I remind you, Mr. Spencer, that you are a consultant and I don't need to call you in on cases."

"You may remind me," Shawn muttered and headed for the door. It would take more than the chief forbidding Shawn to look at his own arrest report to keep him from investigating further. Since when had Shawn listened to anyone when they forbade him to do something.

He ducked down the hallway towards the records room, trying to act casual as Dobson passed him. When the coast was clear he reached for the door knob.

"Shawn?" Juliet's voice interrupted him.

He spun, trying to look innocent. "Hey, Jules,"

"What were you looking for in there?" She was coming down the stairs, holding a pile of folders.

"The spirits were telling me you'd need the door opened." Shawn fibbed, flashing her a grin and pulling the door open.

She gave him an uncertain smile, but headed into the room. "Did you get in trouble with the chief?" She asked as she started filing the reports into their appropriate drawers.

"A little," Shawn shrugged, his eyes fixed on the file cabinet with his own record in it. "What about the candy store case?"

"The other employee confessed. He was taking some money out of the register and Riley surprised him. So he shut the drawer, accidentally shot Riley trying to convince him to keep quiet and then took the money and waited for the cops to show up. Not the brightest criminal mastermind."

"Mhmm," Shawn made a noise of agreement and then curiosity got the better of him and he opened the drawer with his file.

"What are you doing?" Juliet looked over.

"Just checking something," Shawn said absently. He flipped through his file and found the arrest report from 1995. "If I'm not crazy then Lassie's name should be on here." He glanced through the report, smirking slightly at his dad's neat handwriting.

Juliet peeked over his shoulder. "Shawn," she said softly. "There's no Lassiter listed."

Shawn read over the report four more times before slowly putting it away. "Jules, I'm not crazy and I'm not joking. I'm really confused and I need to know what's going on."

"Just go home and get some sleep," she told him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze and a small kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure it'll make sense after some rest."

"That's what Gus told me yesterday." Shawn shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her out the door.

"I've got to go help Lucinda, call me if you need anything." Juliet gave him a quick hug and headed upstairs again.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn went back to the Psych office planning on doing some research, but the couch in the office wasn't as comfortable as the guy selling it on Craig's list had advertised, which meant that Shawn hadn't slept well the night before. Shawn would look for Lassiter after he watched some Magnum P.I. and took a nap.

"Shawn," Juliet knocked softly before entering the office. "Shawn, are you in here."

Shawn jerked awake from the chair in front of the TV and tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah, Jules, I must have dozed off."

"If you were napping you probably needed it," Juliet gave him a smile. "I brought you a sandwich, I don't know if you'd eaten."

"I hadn't thanks," Shawn returned the smile. He took the paper bag from her and went to his desk to open it.

"Are you feeling any better from this morning?" Juliet pulled Gus' desk chair over and sat across from Shawn.

"Yeah," Shawn forced a smile. "I'm fine. I must have been out of whack. I'm just gonna watch some TV today and take it easy."

Juliet seemed satisfied and visibly relaxed. Her cell phone rang and she dug around in her purse. "O'Hara," she listened for a moment and then hung up. "I have to run, another case."

"Should I come?"

"Nope, just take it easy." She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

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Gus went to the Psych office after finishing his route with a pizza in hand. He felt a little bad about yelling at Shawn with this whole joke thing. If anything Shawn was confusing him. Usually if Shawn played the joke you would know, but at this point Gus wasn't sure that Shawn was joking about there being a missing detective.

He found Shawn asleep in his chair, the DVD menu for Quantum Leap was playing on the TV. Gus set the pizza down on his desk and turned off the TV.

Shawn jerked awake at the lack of noise. "The walrus stole my money," he mumbled.

"C'mon son, you know the walrus can't be trusted," Gus shook his head laughing.

"You know that's right," Shawn agreed.

Gus help up the box in his hand, "I brought pizza."

"Sweet," Shawn stretched out his legs. "I was just Bakula-ing it up." He stifled a yawn.

"Bakula-ing is not a word," Gus corrected him.

"But you just said it, therefore it is." Shawn reached for a slice of pizza.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and then Shawn raised an eyebrow at Gus. "You know what I think." He said seriously.

"What?" Gus frowned.

"I think that one of us, is really Sam Beckett."

"Right," Gus snorted in laughter, "and the other one of us is Remington Steele."

"Remington Steele wasn't solving problems in other people's bodies." Shawn rolled his eyes. "Sam Beckett helped save people's lives and made right what once went wrong."

"Is this because you're pretending that there should be this Lassiter guy around?" Gus groaned.

"I'm not pretending!" Shawn told him. "Dude, something isn't right,"

"I think you've been watching too much television."

"I've watched just as much as you, Mr. I-Record-Every-Cat-Program-Ever." Shawn huffed.

"They are adorable, just like bunnies." Gus defended himself, standing up. "And until you can talk about life like a sane person I don't want to hang out." He grabbed the pizza box. "Call me if we get a case."

"Don't take the pizza!" Shawn protested. "I've only had two slices."

"Buy your own pizza," Gus snapped back. This time he didn't feel guilty about yelling at Shawn. His friend was still carrying on with this Lassiter nonsense and Gus was over that joke.

Shawn heard the door slam and then slumped back in his chair. Lassie was missing, Jules thought he was crazy and Gus was mad at him. The perfect trifecta of bad things. He was half expecting someone to call and tell him that The Mentalist was canceled, it would be the perfect ending to the most horrible day ever.

He chewed on the last little bit of his pizza crust and thought about what he had said to Gus. What if one of them actually was Sam Beckett? It couldn't be Shawn, because Shawn was Shawn and he was sure of that. He doubted it was Gus, because Sam Beckett probably would have been grateful to be recognized rather than getting mad and storming out. That left Juliet, and Shawn wasn't sure how comfortable he was with Juliet being inhabited by Scott Bakula. She had kissed him after all.

Plus if Juliet was Sam Beckett then she would have helped him find Lassie rather than telling him to sleep it off. Shawn spun around in his chair a few times; it helped him think. Then he knew he had to go to the one place he could turn to for information when Gus and Jules wouldn't help him; the internet.

He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. If this was all a joke, then Lassie's name would come up in the hundred-bajillion newspaper articles and TV interviews that he had given over the past fifteen years at the station. Shawn typed Carlton Lassiter into the search bar and waited for the results to load.

The page loaded, but with only four results. Shawn frowned, but clicked the first one. It was a state web page listing all the officers that had died in the line of duty. Carlton Lassiter's name was listed in 1994.

Shawn clicked the link next to the detective's name and started reading the report.

_Rookie officer, Carlton Lassiter was killed on Tuesday May 10th, 1994 during a drug bust of the Cinco Reyes gang. Officer Lassiter was pinned down by gang members and when backup arrived he was already shot._

Shot? Shawn frowned at the screen. This was taking it too far, Gus had gotten the station, Barry and the internet involved with his prank. Shawn had to commend him for his thoroughness but pretending Lassie was dead was a little much.

"There's got to be more than that," Shawn muttered out loud and hit the back button to search for Lassiter's name again.

"There isn't more than that," a voice interrupted his thoughts and Shawn looked up to see Lassiter sitting on Gus' desk.

"Lassie!" Shawn was happy to see the detective and then he frowned. "About time you got here. It's a mean trick, letting me think I'm going crazy."

Lassiter scowled, "my name is Carlton Lassiter."

"I know, I know. Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective SBPD." Shawn said, in a gruff voice, mocking Lassiter's usual demeanor.

"Head detective?" Lassiter shook his head, sounding confused. "No, no... you just read about me, rookie officer."

Shawn noticed for the first time that the Lassiter on Gus' desk wasn't the same Lassiter that he had been two days ago when Shawn had switched the sugar packets in the break room for salt packets. He was much younger, none of the stress wrinkles on his face or the grey in his hair. "What's with the rookie blues and the hair dye, Lassie? This is weird."

"You think it's weird? After fifteen years someone is suddenly trying to find me? I don't even know who the hell you are." Lassiter continued to scowl.

"My name is Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, and I work with you at the police department." Shawn explained, as if he were talking to a three year old. "We solve cases, you're head detective and Jules is your partner."

"Spencer?" There was still confusion in Lassiter's voice. "As in Detective Henry Spencer?"

"That's my dad," Shawn nodded. "But you know all this. Why is everyone so set on making my life miserable by pretending you don't exist, or that you died?" His voice was getting louder and louder.

"Because I did die!" Lassiter yelled back, walking towards Shawn. "I was shot in the chest by a member of the Cinco Reyes gang and it hurt like hell. Then I blacked out and when I woke up I was still here, but damn it, I'm not really here!" He had continued walking towards Shawn's desk and was now standing in the middle of it.

Shawn scooted his desk chair back as far as it could go, until he hit a wall. "What the heck, Lassie? Didn't your mother ever teach you it's impolite to stand in other people's desks?" He grabbed a pencil and tossed at Lassiter, freaking out a little when the pencil passed through him.

Lassiter didn't seem to be phased by the pencil. He crossed his arms. "I have no idea who you are, but for the past two days you've been the only person that has said my name since my funeral and I want to know why."

"You haven't had a funeral!" Shawn protested. "You have been head detective of the SBPD for almost ten years now. You divorced your wife officially two years ago and after that you cut your hair in the most godawful way imaginable."

"I got married?" Lassiter uncrossed his arms and Shawn noticed an empty left ring finger.

"Yeah, to Victoria. You married her and then you guys called it quits."

"Victoria Parker?" Lassiter raised his eyebrows. "I thought her dad hated me."

"Still does," Shawn mumbled.

He sighed and then gave Lassiter a skeptical look. "Let's just say for a second that I'm not crazy, but you're still a... ghost?" Lassiter nodded in agreement with the terminology. "Right, so that means one thing."

"What?"

"Something was messed up in the time and space continuum." Shawn said decidedly. "And you know what that means."

"No, I don't," Lassiter drawled, looking annoyed and more like the Lassiter Shawn was used to seeing.

"It means that we're a lot closer to being in a Quantum Leap episode than I thought." Shawn whispered conspiratorially.


	2. Chapter 2

"Normally, I would consider any form of psychic ability, spiritual guidance and time travel complete and utter bull crap," Lassiter said slowly, carefully thinking over his words, "but since I'm currently standing in the middle of your desk and I've been privy to every conversation at the police station since 1994, I'm going to go ahead and give you a little wiggle room." He held up his fingers, "a little."

"Speaking of the desk thing," Shawn still hadn't moved his chair from being pushed back against the wall. "Can you pretend that you're a normal human being and not stand in there." He waved Lassiter back towards Gus' desk.

Lassiter gave him an apologetic look and stepped back until he was standing on the other side of Shawn's desk.

"That's better," Shawn let himself relax. "Now, I don't want to sound crazy, but I think we're going to research time travel."

"Time travel?" Lassiter deadpanned, giving his head a small shake of disbelief.

"Yes," Shawn said defensively, "because obviously you aren't supposed to get shot in 1994, you're supposed to..." Shawn paused, "I dunno, you were supposed to bust those gang members and get a commendation from the mayor or something like that."

"I don't know if you're aware, Spencer, but time travel doesn't really exist."

"Lassie, I may not drive a Delorean," Shawn admitted. "And I will put my foot down if you suggest I jump off the Brooklyn Bridge to find Hugh Jackman, but I will not rule out finding some 90's clothes to travel Christopher Reeves' style." He was pacing the room now, getting more and more excited with each time travel possibility.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," Lassiter was sitting on Gus' desk again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I sound completely insane."

"You're the one who can walk through desks," Shawn pointed out, taking a moment to watch with a smile as he tried to put his hand through Lassiter's shoulder. "So, I probably sound more insane talking to you."

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Juliet had picked up her phone to call Shawn six times that morning, but every time she had put it back down. She knew she needed to talk to him and she was worried when he hadn't called her at all last night. But after the past two days maybe he just needed some time alone.

She picked up the phone again, she really would call this time, but before she could dial the number Gus walked over.

"Where's Shawn?" He asked, looking around.

"He's not here," Juliet looked confused. "I was just about to call him."

"He texted me this morning telling me to meet him here," Gus frowned. "He said he had a breakthrough in the case that he wanted to tell me about."

Juliet frowned and slowly shook her head, "Shawn isn't working a case right now."

"On the contrary!" Shawn had just come through the door and was headed over to them. "I never said what case I was working. I brought you here to tell you something extremely important." He looked between them with complete sincerity.

"What did you find out that is so important?" Gus was giving Shawn a confused look.

"I discovered last night that I'm not crazy, and that I was right." Shawn opened the folder he was carrying. "Exhibit A,"

"Shawn," Gus cut him off, "is this about that pretend detective?"

Shawn scowled, "yes, of course this is about Lassie."

"Shawn," Juliet said gently, as she grabbed a file from her desk. "After I left you at the office yesterday I did some digging and I found Lassiter."

"See, Gus, Juliet knows what I know. That unlike Blackbeard's buried treasure and rainbows, Lassie is real."

"Rainbows are real," Gus rolled his eyes.

"Not the ones made of skittles,"

"Shawn, Carlton Lassiter has been dead for fifteen years." Juliet said gently.

"See, that's the crazy part," Shawn actually smiled. "I was talking with Lassie last night and obviously time has been tampered with, which is why I have this." He handed the two of them diagrams he'd drawn up around three that morning.

"Is that a Stargate?" Gus asked, looking at the picture.

"No, it's a ring of blue jello," Shawn laughed. "Of course it's a Stargate."

"Shawn," Juliet hadn't looked at the drawing. "Did you say that you were talking to Lassiter last night?"

Shawn looked over from where he was writing on a white board. "Yeah, he's been a ghost the whole time."

Juliet and Gus exchanged glances. "Shawn... have you talked to your mom about this?" Gus ventured to ask.

Shawn scowled, "look, I'm not crazy. I don't have to talk to my mom about this. I'm psychic remember, it's normal for me to commune with the spirits. Now hang on a second, I have to finish this timeline."

"Shawn," Juliet was starting to get frustrated. "I don't know what you want any more. I looked up an officer who has been dead for fifteen years and try to make sense of why you've suddenly taken an interest in him. I spent my free time looking it up and the least you could is say thank you." She grabbed her keys from her desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go help my partner," she checked her gun and headed for the door.

"I'm helping your partner, too. The one that you should have!" Shawn yelled after her.

"Don't bother calling until you get your head sorted out." Juliet called over her shoulder.

The entire station was staring at the two. Gus grabbed Shawn by the elbow, leading him into the conference room which was thankfully empty.

Shawn pulled away and tried to leave, "I have to finish my drawing, Gus. You know Dobson is gonna erase the board if I leave it alone too long."

"Dude," Gus refused to let Shawn by. "You do realize that you aren't actually psychic right?" He whispered fiercely, looking around just to make sure that no one was listening in. "There's no way you can be convinced that you're communing with the spirits."

"But I really am," Shawn told him. "I actually saw Lassiter yesterday, he stood in the middle of my desk."

"So now this guy is standing on desks? Shawn, are you listening to yourself?"

"I think the better question is; are you listening to me? I said Lassie was standing in my desk, not on it." Shawn clarified.

"Shawn, you've gone from being convinced that we were playing a joke on you yesterday, to being convinced that you're talking with a dead police officer who you think shouldn't be dead." Gus sounded extremely worried. "I think you really should call your mom, or I will."

"There's no reason to call my mom in on this,"

"If you don't cut it out by tomorrow I'm calling her." Gus threatened, putting his hand on the door knob. "And I'll call your dad, too."

"Go ahead and call them. But when you do, make sure to tell them that you were the captain of Team Wrong." Shawn smirked, "and that I was captain of Team Right."

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Gus shook his head and walked out the door.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn marched out of the station a little satisfied that he'd gotten to make an entire 'I told you so' speech, but not as happy seeing as everyone thought he was insane.

He made it to the parking lot where he saw Lassiter perched against his motorcycle.

"I see that didn't go so well," Lassiter commented.

"No thanks to you," Shawn snapped, grabbing his helmet by reaching through Lassiter.

"Hey! Stop doing that," Lassiter protested, stepping away from Shawn, brushing himself off.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Shawn said sarcastically. "I would have thought that since you're a wandering spirit, things going through your body would be natural for you."

"That doesn't give you the right to stick your hand through me." Lassiter scowled, crossing his arms.

"Well, maybe if you had helped me in there, I would be in a better mood." Shawn flung a hand back towards the station. "You could have rattled some chains,slammed some doors or shown yourself, whatever it is that ghosts do."

"It doesn't work that way." Lassiter glanced at the station. "Nobody in there gives a damn about me,"

"I'm sorry that the entire station is acting like Rhett Butler, but sometimes you have to suck it up." Shawn threw his hands up in exasperation. "C'mon son,"

"I've been at this station for the past fifteen years and I've never been able to show myself to anyone." Lassiter looked a little depressed. "That little comment I made in your office, I say things out loud all the time and nobody ever hears them. They don't care about what happened." He scowled thinking about it. "I got shot, they gave me a regulation funeral and then they buried my file with all the other unsolved cases."

"What do you mean unsolved? I thought the Cinco Reyes did it?" All Shawn's exasperation dissipated into confusion.

"Of course they shot me, but they never caught Chavez, the one who actually pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, I'm the only one who knows that, because no one in that entire station is smart enough to piece evidence together."

"You're a cold case?" When Lassiter nodded, Shawn sighed. "That means I'm more a Kathryn Morris than a Scott Bakula." He made an uncomfortable face. "I don't think I'm okay with that."

"Look, I don't exactly understand all the references you make." Lassiter told him. "But maybe if you spent as much time thinking about your case as you do thinking about those references, you'd actually solve a case."

"I've solved a ton of cases, and I've even solved a ton of cases that you arrested an innocent person on." Shawn argued. "I told you once what my process was, it involves frozen treats, Thundercats and Gus. So, just take a step back while I try to figure out how I'm going to save your life." He waved Lassiter away from the motorcycle.

"I don't want to alarm you, but you do have an audience behind you." Lassiter nodded with his head.

Shawn turned to see McNab holding a cup of coffee, ready to get in his patrol car. He was staring at Shawn, face looking a mixture of shocked, confused and worried.

"Everything okay, Shawn?" He asked.

"Everything is peachy, Buzz, just working on a scene for the play I'm in."

"Oh, really? What's it called?"

Shawn gave Lassiter a side glance. "It's called 'The Dead Can be a Real Pain in the Ass Sometimes'. It's a show about a guy who has to talk to a ghost who is kind of a jerk."

"That sounds nice..." Buzz's smile faltered, "Is that one of those new modern plays?"

"It's based on a true story," Shawn nodded. "Well, anyways I need to get headed over to rehearsal, talk to you later." He donned his helmet and straddled his bike.

"That's the kind of cop they hire nowadays?" Lassiter had a skeptical look on his face as he watched McNab try to juggle his coffee and open his car door.

Shawn glanced over at the rookie just as Buzz caught the cup from falling to the ground. "Yup, but don't worry, he busted a bunch of diamond smugglers for you once."

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn was back at the Psych office in under ten minutes, armed with a fresh pizza and an entire case of Mountain Dew. He would solve this time travel problem if it took him all day.

Six hours later, he had eaten half a pizza and there were four empty cans of soda sitting on his desk. His white board was still blank, except for the dinosaur he'd drawn in the bottom left corner.

"TV makes this look so much easier," he grumbled to Lassiter, who was sitting on the couch watching the psychic.

"Maybe you're not supposed to travel back in time," Lassiter suggested. "Maybe you're just supposed to find Chavez and bring him to justice."

Shawn rolled his eyes, "That still leaves us with the problem of you being dead. You know for a ghost, you offer really sucky advice. And one more thing," Shawn brought up a subject that had been bothering him all day. "How come you can sit on my couch and my bike, but every time I throw something at your head it goes right through?"

"I'm not exactly sure how it works, I haven't looked that deeply into it." Lassiter drawled. He went back to reading the open newspaper in front of him. Shawn had opened it to the page that listed all the police reports. As soon as Lassiter finished those, he'd ask Shawn to flip to the obituaries.

Shawn gave a sideways glance at the empty cans on his desk. He picked one and chucked it at Lassiter. It passed through him, just like every other time, and knocked the tiki girl off the bookshelf against the far wall.

"Finished throwing things at my head yet?" Lassiter raised his eyebrows and gave Shawn an unamused look.

"For now," Shawn turned back to the board, then he sighed and grabbed his helmet off of Gus' desk. "I have something I need to do, I'll be back later." He told Lassiter as he ran out the door to his bike.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn didn't know why he was going to the cemetery. To be honest the whole place kind of creeped him out. It was just after sunset and Shawn had to use his phone to light his path and he walked through the rows, trying to find a specific grave.

It was a simple tombstone, neat and well cared for, sitting by itself at the end of a row.

"You could have told me you were coming here," Lassiter growled, coming into view as Shawn knelt in front of the headstone.

Shawn nearly fell back, "Holy Crap, Lassie! You can't do that to a guy!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lassiter asked, his voice softer.

"I didn't know if you would want me to see it." Shawn whispered back, brushing the stray grass clippings away. He could clearly see the name 'Carlton Lassiter' in the light of his phone.

"My mother brings flowers here on the anniversary of my death," Lassiter said quietly. "Well, she used to, but the past three years she hasn't been." He looked a little sad. "Lauren comes sometimes, but she's gotten so busy lately." He was trying to give his sister an excuse. "And she wasn't even in high school when it happened."

"Lassie, it's okay," Shawn said softly, wiping a sleeve across his eyes. He hadn't even thought about Lassiter's family. If Shawn were gone Gus and his dad would be left to put flowers on his grave. He swallowed, "Man, I'm sorry I threw that pencil at your head, and my soda can, and the DVD of The Hangover, and Gus' copy of War and Peace. You were a real person and I should respect that."

Lassiter looked extremely uncomfortable, "Is that all?" He asked hopefully.

Shawn gave a sniffle and nodded.

"Right, well, then I'll be going. I have someplace to be." Lassiter shifted from one foot to the other.

"Where? You're a ghost."

"Every Saturday I go to check up on my sister,"

Shawn nodded, "Right. Is she still a film maker?"

Lassiter stiffly nodded. "She's premiering her new documentary tonight. I'll be back in the morning."

Lassiter disappeared from sight and Shawn wiped his nose. He stood up, wincing as his knees protested and headed back to his bike. Time Bandits had made this jumping through time thing seem so much easier. Maybe Shawn should start laying out Jelly Babies and asking around for a man with a blue box. No, that was ridiculous, everyone knew that only worked in England.

He sighed and scratched at the three days growth of beard on his face. He hadn't been back to his apartment, to be honest he wasn't sure that he still lived there. If time was messed up, maybe Mimi's Fluff and Fold was still a fluff and fold.

His cell phone rang, it was his dad. Shawn debated answering it, but since almost everyone that he cared about currently thought that he was mentally unstable, he let it ring in his pocket. After his phone beeped to tell him there was a voicemail, Shawn pulled it out and listened to what his dad had to say.

"Shawn, pick up. I checked your apartment and no one was home. Juliet called this afternoon," there was a pause and Henry continued, "she's really worried about you. She said you won't let go of this Lassiter guy. It reminds me of when you thought our neighbor was Tom Selleck, only you let go of that after the guy shaved his mustache." Henry sighed, "Anyways, just give me a call back when you get this or call your mom."

There was a click and the message ended. Shawn's shoulders slumped. Make that everyone he cared for now thought he was crazy.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Slowly Shawn opened his eyes. He must have dozed off at the office, but he couldn't remember riding his bike home from the cemetery. Obviously he would have fallen asleep on the couch, but he couldn't remember the office couch being this uncomfortable before. He shifted, trying to find a better position and gave a yelp as he fell off.

He hit the ground and instead of the carpet on the office floor, he felt wood chips. He opened his eyes all the way and looked around. He was in the middle of a park on the ground in front of a bench. That was really weird, Shawn thought to himself as he slowly pulled himself back onto the bench.

"Complete disregard for public decency and civic property," a familiar voice tsked from above him.

Shawn looked up to see Lassiter, still wearing his rookie blues, scowling at him.

"I'm not even sure how I got out here, okay," Shawn rubbed his temples trying to get rib of the dull throbbing in the back of his skull.

"You're saying that you're inebriated," Lassiter shook his head in disapproval.

"What? No, not with anything stronger than a Mountain Dew." Shawn sighed. "How was your sister's premier last night?"

"My sister's what?" Lassiter frowned.

"Her premiere, Lauren's documentary."

Lassiter grabbed Shawn by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "My sister is only fourteen, and not even in high school, so you'd better have a really good reason for bringing her up, buddy."

Shawn struggled to loosen Lassiter's grip, "Fourteen? That makes you, what, twenty-five?"

Lassiter let him go and Shawn sat back down on the bench. "I should arrest you for public indecency," Lassiter told him, pulling a notebook out of his shirt pocket. "But I'll let you off with a warning, since I can't smell any alcohol on your breath." He handed Shawn a ticket.

Shawn took it from him and glanced at the piece of paper. "Very funny, Lassie, this says May 9th, 1994."

"That's today's date," Lassiter assured him. "Now move along before I arrest you for wasting the time of a police officer."

Shawn cocked his head to the side, "This is 1994?"

"Has been all year," Lassiter muttered.

"Then..." Shawn looked at the ticket in his hand and back to Lassiter, "then it worked," he whispered. "I am Sam Beckett, and I can touch you, my hand doesn't go through you!" He reached out and touched Lassiter's shoulder to prove his point, doing a little dance when his hand didn't go through.

"Alright, that's it, you obviously belong in some kind of mental institution," Lassiter reached for his cuffs.

"No, no, Lassiter, no need for that." Shawn tried to be more serious, holding up his hands. "I'm just excited to see such a fine upstanding cop working for the best police force in California."

Lassiter narrowed his eyes, "Why do you care so much about the SBPD,"

"Because my d-" Shawn stopped, there was no way he could pass off Henry Spencer as his father. "My brother, Henry is a detective there."

"Henry Spencer is your brother," Lassiter continued to scrutinize Shawn. "You do look a little like him,"

"I look about half like him," Shawn agreed, "My name is Shawn Spencer and he loves me so much he named his kid after me. Plus if I weren't his brother how would I know that he took his son on the worst vacation ever in an attempt to mend some of the bridges burnt by his recent divorce?" The fishing vacation of 1994 was still etched clearly in Shawn's brain as the week he decided to leave his dad as soon as he turned eighteen.

Lassiter didn't seem completely convinced, but he put his cuffs back on his belt. "Well," he started to say.

"Exactly," Shawn agreed, "I couldn't know about that unless I was his brother. Now, let's go round up some of the Cinco Reyes gang."

"The Cinco Reyes?" Lassiter looked shocked, "How did you know I was working that case?" He gave Shawn a suspicious look.

"That doesn't matter," Shawn brushed it off. "What matters is that it's May 9th and I have a life to save.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is amazing!" Shawn threw his arms out and it took every ounce of self control he had not to hug Lassiter, who was giving him a look that was a mixture of concern and shock.

Shawn was giddy, he had no idea how the time travel had worked, but all that mattered was that it had. Lassie was alive and they had a whole day to figure out how to stop him from getting shot. He spotted Lassiter's patrol car parked nearby and headed for it. "C'mon, let's go arrest some bad guys!"

"Hang on," Lassiter called after him. "What do you mean you have a life to save?"

Shawn turned, still grinning, "I have this feeling that there's going to be a big bust tomorrow with the Cinco Reyes," he rolled the R in Reyes and laughed a little, "and I'd rather that no cops die at it." He sobered slightly, giving Lassiter a serious nod.

"Who told you about the Cinco Reyes?" Lassiter frowned at Shawn.

"That part doesn't matter," Shawn didn't want to sound completely crazy by revealing his source to the cop.

"I think it does matter," Lassiter grabbed his arm and swung Shawn around to push him against the car. "Let's take this conversation down at the station." He snapped his cuffs on Shawn's wrists.

"Woah! Lassie, Lassie," Shawn pleaded, as the rookie cop opened the back door of the car. "Don't you have to read me my rights or something?"

"You have the right to remain silent," Lassiter went through the entire speech, completely ignoring Shawn's protests as he shut the door.

OoO OoO OoO

The ride to the station was a one sided conversation with Shawn trying to convince Lassiter to let him out of the cuffs. If Shawn hadn't been able to see the way that Lassiter was clenching his jaw, he would have assumed the cop had gone deaf.

Once they got to the station, Lassiter put Shawn in one of the station's holding cells and left. Probably to get some sort of torture device, or at least that's the theory Shawn had as he sat on the uncomfortable bed waiting for the cop to return.

"This is a twist I didn't see coming," a voice from across the cell told him.

Shawn looked over to see a highly amused Lassiter leaning against the wall.

"Are you really that demented, or am I talking to the ghost version?" Shawn let his head rest against the wall. He didn't have anything to throw at Lassiter to determine which Lassiter this was.

"I'm the dead one," Ghost Lassiter told him, waving his arm through the wall to prove his point. "Though have fun keeping us straight," he smirked.

"You could be helping me," Shawn frowned. "I'm kind of here to save your life."

"Oh, I'll help," Lassiter promised him. "But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy actually interacting with someone after so long."

Shawn stuck his tongue out at Lassiter and then sighed. "Man, I didn't think you'd actually arrest me."

"I thought you said you knew me," Lassiter reminded him. "I doubt that I've changed that much as a cop."

"You got older, but I wouldn't go so far as to say wiser." Shawn crossed his arms and slouched against the wall. "Besides, shouldn't you know that the other you can't really hold me here. I didn't do anything wrong. Sleeping on a park bench doesn't count."

"You're talking to yourself?" The door to the holding cell clanged open and Lassiter waved for Shawn to step forward.

Shawn glanced to the wall and Ghost Lassiter smirked, waving good-bye as he disappeared from view.

"I was thinking out loud," he clarified, standing. "Are you ready to let me go?"

Lassiter grumbled and nodded, "not by my choice." He motioned for Shawn to follow him. "But apparently I can't 'clean up the streets one random guy on a park bench at a time'." He used air quotes as he headed up the stairs.

"Do I still get to help you with the Reyes case?"

"Still?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "You never were helping me."

"But I have insight and really great detective skills," Shawn pleaded, following him towards the evidence room.

Lassiter turned abruptly, "I will not have a civilian running around and trying to help," he snapped and then went through the door leaving Shawn standing alone in the station.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn had to leave the station as soon as Lassiter left him. He didn't have a visitor's badge and the cop at the front desk was giving him a weird look. That meant that Shawn was standing outside the station, trying to figure out how he was going to save a man who wouldn't even let him help.

"What are you doing?" Ghost Lassiter was back and he did not look happy as he watched Shawn pace around on the sidewalk outside the station. "Shouldn't you be in there helping?" He pointed towards the station.

"You kicked me out," Shawn was still pacing. "I can't get back in there without being a cop. And without being in there, I have no idea what the other you is doing and how it's going to get you killed."

"You're a psychic, can't you just 'divine' what the other me is doing in there?" Lassiter crossed his arms.

Shawn met Lassiter's gaze and held it steady, "this used to be your life, so can't you just tell me where he's going to go next?" Shawn countered with his own question, smirking a little as the ghost narrowed his eyes and grumbled a reply. "What was that, Lassie? I didn't quite catch it."

"I said," Lassiter cleared his throat, "I said that I found a link between Chavez and the Reyes in some evidence I had on my desk and I went to investigate it."

"Why didn't you take backup?" Shawn cocked his head to the side, "even a first year rookie would have known to take someone with them and you've always been by the book."

Lassiter opened his mouth to answer several times and then motioned for Shawn to come closer, as if someone would be able to hear what he said. "Technically, I wasn't supposed to be investigating this case as deeply as I did." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and rephrased, "I sort of investigated a murder further than my commanding officer wanted me to, and that lead me to the Chavez connection."

Shawn stopped staring at Lassiter to wave at a passing policeman who was giving him a very confused look, "Morning, officer," Shawn nodded and then motioned for Lassiter to follow him around the corner of the building. "You started an unauthorized investigation? Lassie, that's," Shawn mulled the idea around in his head for a moment, "That's pretty badass. Who knew you were such a rebel in your youth," Shawn tried to give him a slap on the arm. He gave Lassiter an apologetic look when his hand met zero resistance.

"I was just trying to find something that would start a real investigation," Lassiter clarified. "I wasn't trying to play hero."

"Hero, schmero," Shawn waved that away. "What did you do once you found the connection?"

"I spent the afternoon staking out Chavez's building, trying to find dirt on him."

"Where is this building?"

"Corner of Seventh and Mulvane," Lassiter said slowly. "You aren't thinking about going there, are you?"

Shawn grinned, "Think nothing, I'm headed there now."

"You don't have a car," Lassiter pointed out.

"No, but I know a kid who won't be using his bike all weekend because his dad has him on the worst camping trip in the world." Shawn started to walk towards the sidewalk.

"Are you insane?" Lassiter shouted after him. "Weren't you paying attention with all the stuff you were reading about time travel? What if you do something to alter your own life?"

Shawn faltered, "What if I break my bike and then the 17 year old version of myself doesn't get arrested and then I become a cop?" He gave an involuntary shudder.

"Sweet lady justice," Lassiter rolled his eyes.

It turned out Shawn wouldn't have to steal his own bike, because at that moment the doors to the station opened and Lassiter practically ran down the steps towards his patrol car.

"Lassisaurus!" Shawn called, jogging over to the car.

Lassiter groaned and turned to him, "What are you still doing here?"

"I want to go with you if you're going to sneak out and go all John McClane and try to save the day." Shawn headed for the passenger side of the car.

"I'm not letting you in this car," Lassiter informed him.

"If you don't, I'm sure the chief would be very interested in hearing about your little expedition. He probably wants to catch Chavez as much as you do." Shawn would never use the word blackmail to talk about his tactic, but he wasn't opposed to having some leverage.

Lassiter shot a glance back at the station. "Get in the car," he snapped.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

The building that Lassiter pulled up across the street from was an abandoned warehouse of cinematic proportions. Shawn was waiting for an explosion to occur any minute and Tom Cruise to run out from the blast. He snickered as he thought about that.

"What?" Lassiter looked over, concerned and unsure about why Shawn was laughing. "Did you see something?"

Shawn shook his head, "nope, nothing yet, Lassidoodle."

"Can you cut that out?" Lassiter snapped, turning to look back at the building.

"Cut what out?"

"The nicknames. My name is Carlton Lassiter and that's what people call me. Not Lassie, or any kind of version of that."

"Fine," Shawn suppressed a laugh, "I suppose I could settle for Booker," he glanced over and saw Lassiter's knuckles go white as he clenched the steering wheel. "Or," he pretended to mull over the choices, "there's also Binky."

Lassiter's face paled and he shot Shawn a death glare. "How do you know about Old Sonora?" His tone was dark and for the first time since he'd ended up in 1994, Shawn wasn't sure that Lassiter wouldn't kill him and leave his body in a river.

"Okay, okay," Shawn held up his hands. "I won't call you Booker or Binky, just Lassiter, Carlton Lassiter."

The policeman visibly relaxed and silence fell over the car as the stakeout continued. And continued, and continued.

Shawn tried to entertain himself as the minutes ticked by slowly. He was beginning to wonder where the ghost version of Lassiter was and watching an empty building was just about as much fun as watching paint dry.

"What if-" Shawn started to say.

"No," Lassiter cut him off. "No, I don't want to play a game. No, I don't want to name the presidents of the United States in any order, including backwards, chronological and alphabetical."

"What about by their wives' first names?" Shawn suggested quietly.

Lassiter didn't even respond, he just kept looking out the front of his car.

"There's not even anything here," Shawn protested. "Chavez clearly isn't here, and nothing is probably going to happen until tomorrow anyways. I'm hungry and I'm tired and I need to pee."

"You know, for having a great detective like Henry Spencer in your family, you're really terrible at stake outs." Lassiter informed him.

"For your edification, Lassiter," Shawn made sure to enunciate each word distinctly. "I am a great detective, just because I don't carry around a badge doesn't mean that I can't help get people arrested so they serve time behind bars."

"You look like you should be serving drinks at a bar," Lassiter started up his car. "We'll come back tomorrow. I'm not going to sit here and argue with you."

"That's great," Shawn agreed, "we can get pizza and plan a new strategy."

"We?" Lassiter shook his head, "No way, Spencer, I'm dropping you off at the station." He turned onto the main street.

"I can't sleep at the station, remember. They can't arrest me for anything."

"You could sleep in the morgue." Lassiter grumbled, "I could arrange for that."

"Very funny," Shawn deadpanned, crossing his arms and slumping down in the seat.

"Can't you sleep at your brother's place?" Lassiter made a left turn.

"He's out of town," Shawn reminded him.

"That doesn't mean you can't sleep at his house."

"Would you let me into your home unsupervised?" Shawn raised an eyebrow at him.

"Good point," Lassiter conceded, making another turn.

"Speaking of your home," Shawn tried to sound casual.

"You're not sleeping there." Lassiter told him. "I don't have couch crashers."

"I'll sleep on the floor then."

"I don't have floor crashers either,"

"Do you want me to call the chief?" Shawn wasn't sure how many times he was going to be able to use that threat before Lassiter called his bluff. Apparently it was at least twice.

"Fine, but only for one night." Lassiter gave him a threatening look.

"One night is all it's going to take. You just have to promise to let me help out on this case." Shawn stomach twisted and he suddenly felt queasy when he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"Why is this case so important to you?" Lassiter couldn't wrap his head around Shawn's insistence to help. "It's not even a real case and at the most I could get this guy on possession."

"I'm just trying to make sure that this never becomes more than a misdemeanor. " Shawn said quietly.

Lassiter gave him a hard scrutinizing look. They sat in silence and then Lassiter started talking again. "Why aren't you a cop? You'd probably make a good one, knowing your brother."

It was the same speech Shawn had heard from every detective who ever graced the halls of the SBPD, but somehow coming from Lassiter it stung more. Probably because in reality Lassiter would never have acknowledged Shawn's skills, not willingly. "Things wouldn't have worked out," Shawn muttered, looking out the window. "My d-" he caught himself, "brother always wanted me to be, but we're very different people. The rules aren't my style."

"That's obvious," Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Lassie, not all of us can color in the lines all the time. And you're one to talk, what did you tell the station you were doing? Going on patrol, the oldest excuse in the book to take a cruiser out for a spin." Shawn didn't want to talk about himself anymore.

Lassiter clenched his jaw and flat out refused to answer, leaving the two men in silence for the rest of the ride.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Lassiter's apartment was neat, tidy and completely void of personal effects. It was even less warm and inviting than the detective's apartment in Shawn's normal life. Although he was a little relieved to see no sign of a Lassie's Most Wanted crime board.

"Cozy," Shawn commented, giving the room a glance over, walking over to a bookshelf on the far wall.

"Why should I make an effort when I don't actually spend any time here," Lassiter muttered.

"What about when you have lady friends over?" Shawn had picked up a service award that was dated 1983, when Lassiter was 14. It was for a perfect year of crossing guard service.

"I don't have lady friends," Lassiter said shortly, grabbing the award out of Shawn's hands and placing it gently back on the shelf. "I don't have time for them." He headed for the kitchen in the back of the apartment.

"What about Victoria?" Shawn called after him. If Ghost Lassie had known who she was then this Lassie would too.

There was the sound of glass breaking, "What about Victoria?" Lassiter slowly poked his head around the door frame, giving Shawn a wary look.

"You like her," Shawn clasped his hands together and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I do," Lassiter nodded, more open than Shawn was expecting. "I'm still trying to convince her father that I'm going to make something out of myself. I'm going to..." he trailed off.

"That you're going to be the youngest head detective in SBPD history," Shawn prompted.

"Exactly," Lassiter said emphatically, then he hesitated. "How... am I going to do that?"

"You're going to solve cases and bring in bad guys." Shawn assured him. "Then you're going to marry Victoria Parker."

Lassiter gave a shy smile, "that would be nice. We could have kids, you know." His smile broadened and he went to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

Shawn didn't want to tell Lassiter that a marriage with Victoria was going to break his heart and all he had to look forward to was a messy divorce. No, Shawn couldn't tell him that. It would crush little Lassiter's spirits and Shawn needed him on his A game if they were going to avoid getting shot tomorrow.

"Spencer," Lassiter snapped his fingers to get Shawn's attention. "Did you hear what I said?"

Shawn shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He raised his eyebrows and waited for the other man to repeat himself.

"I asked if you wanted anything,"

"A sandwich?" Shawn asked hopefully. He had no idea how much food Lassie would have in his apartment.

"The only kind I have is peanut butter," Lassiter told him.

"Jelly?"

The glare that Lassiter gave him was as loud as any No he could have said.

"Peanut butter is fine," Shawn mumbled, sitting down at the small, cramped kitchen table. He really needed Ghost Lassiter to show up soon. Shawn was feeling a little lost not knowing what was going to happen.

"I'm going to bed," Lassiter informed him, putting a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread and a knife on the table in front of Shawn. "If you steal anything I will find you," he met Shawn's eyes and then headed for his bedroom, "and before you think of trying anything, I sleep with a gun."

"I'm not a thief," Shawn called after him, "or a pervert!" he added, taking a bite of the sandwich.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn finished the sandwiches and then looked around the apartment. It was very... Lassie. Speaking of Lassie, where the hell was the spirit version of him? Shawn was going to need some guidance if he was going to save the day tomorrow.

He considered yelling to try and find the ghost version of Lassiter, but since the very much alive version was just down the hall with a gun, Shawn decided it would be in his best interest just to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

"Rise and shine," Lassiter's voice was very loud and unpleasant as Shawn slowly woke up the next morning. "We have a lot to do today if we're going to catch Chavez before the drug deal happens tonight." There was a pause and Shawn could hear Lassiter in the kitchen. Then Lassiter's voice was much closer, "what the hell, I told you no couch crashing, Spencer!"

Shawn felt himself falling to the floor as Lassiter pulled on the blanket Shawn had found on the back of the sofa the night before. Thankfully the fall wasn't very far. Shawn blinked and stretched out. He'd given up hope, when he'd heard Lassiter's alarm clock go off at 5:15, that morning that the day before had been a dream induced by a weird slice of pizza.

"I have twenty minutes to get to work and if you think I'm leaving you alone here, you're wrong."

Shawn looked up to see Lassiter standing over him, holding a cup of coffee. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Ten after seven and I have a fifteen minute drive. If you think I'm going to let you be the reason I'm late-"

"We won't be late," Shawn cut him off. "However, if you think my hair is going to make itself magnificent in five minutes you are out of your damn mind." Shawn reached a hand up to feel just how messy his hair was going to be after sleeping on Lassiter's couch.

"You would need a barber to help with it," Lassiter muttered.

Shawn ignored him and stood, wincing as his back protested. "Can I at least grab some breakfast?"

"Absolutely not," Lassiter scowled. "I won't have you freeloading any more food from me. Now let's get going."

OoO OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn thought that Lassiter would drive back to the building they had been staking out the day before. But Lassiter obviously had other plans as he pulled into the station parking lot.

"What're we doing here?" Shawn asked, a little confused as he followed Lassiter up the steps.

"I just have to check something out," Lassiter shrugged, "Wait out here. I'll just be a minute."

Shawn opened his mouth to protest, but Lassiter had already gone inside. "He could have at least brought me a donut," Shawn grumbled to himself as he sat down on the steps to wait.

Cops passed Shawn for more than two hours, and he seriously considered doing something illegal just to get into the station. Lassiter was taking an awfully long time for "just a minute". He sighed and starting throwing loose rocks down the steps again.

"I thought you were supposed to be saving my life, not becoming my best friend."

Shawn didn't even have to look up to know that Ghost Lassiter was back. "Nice of you to show up," he snapped, keeping his voice quiet.

"I was busy," Lassiter told him.

"Doing what? Communing with other psychics and causing them to think they're going insane?" Shawn finally looked up, giving him a glare.

"You think I made you jump timelines? I have no idea how this happened, Spencer," Lassiter returned the glare.

"Well, you'd better figure that out because once I save you I want to go back to my own timeline. I've got a pretty sweet thing going on there with my life." He threw the last of his rocks and then gave Lassiter a thoughtful look. "Where were you last night anyway?"

Lassiter ducked his head, "I was checking up on my family, okay? It's been a long time."

"I don't have a lot of time if I'm supposed to help you out," Shawn pointed out. "Things go down tonight."

There was a sigh, and then Lassiter nodded, "I know, but I think having you with me... him, me... is going to help. I just need to not get shot." He unconsciously rubbed his chest just above his heart.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. He nodded, "Do you have any ideas what the other you is doing in there?" He was starting to get antsy the longer he sat there.

"Not a clue,"

"And you can't go in there and find out, because?" Shawn rolled his eyes and prompted the cop to continue.

"Because this is your job, Spencer," Lassiter snapped. The doors behind Shawn opened and Ghost Lassiter went quiet.

Lassiter came down the steps, "C'mon, Spencer, we don't have a lot of time before Chavez shows up." He headed for his car without bothering to see if the other man was following him.

Shawn gave Ghost Lassiter one last glare and then ran to catch up, "Can we please stop for food? I'm about to die of starvation."

"Is your stomach really all you think about?" Lassiter shook his head and waited for Shawn to fasten his seatbelt before starting the car.

"My stomach feeds my brain, which feeds my detective skills." Shawn defended.

"If it'll get you to stop complaining I'll stop somewhere," Lassiter pulled into the parking lot of a burger place and looked over, waiting for Shawn to get out of the car.

"I need money," Shawn admitted.

"What? You don't have any money?" Lassiter shook his head in disgust.

"No, I wasn't planning on having to buy anything." Shawn held out his hand. "Please let me bum a dollar or two. I am helping you."

"What if I tell you no," Lassiter raised an eyebrow.

"What if I tell the chief?" Shawn raised his own eyebrow in response.

At first Shawn didn't think that Lassiter was going to fall for the blackmail scheme again, but the radio crackled to life and Shawn found himself being shoved out of the car.

Lassiter gave him a five dollar bill, "I want change," he reminded Shawn and then grabbed the handset for the radio.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn returned to the car, sipping a coke and happily full of food. He slid into the passenger side, "anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

Lassiter didn't answer him. As Shawn turned to repeat himself, the cop clicked handcuffs on the psychic's right hand and the door handle.

"What gives, Lassie?" He jerked against the cuffs. "I thought we were past all this!"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Lassiter had pulled out of the parking lot and was driving towards the Reyes building again.

"The truth about what? Or did you want to play 'To Tell the Truth', the TV game show?" Shawn joked, trying to quell the panic that was rising. He hated being handcuffed.

Lassiter clenched his jaw, and rolled his eyes, "I had someone run a check for me at the station. Turns out Henry Spencer doesn't have a brother named Shawn."

Shawn's stomach did a flip, but he tried to keep calm. "Well, your records must be wrong."

"They aren't," Lassiter said bluntly. "Henry Spencer has a brother-"

"Yes, me," Shawn interrupted, pointing at his chest.

"He has a brother named Jack, who has quite the rap sheet," Lassiter continued as if Shawn hadn't chimed in. He pulled up to the curb about a block away from the Reyes building. He turned to face the other man. "So either, you're lying to me and you're a con man, or you're just lying to me. Which one is it?"

Shawn jerked against the cuffs again, "Lassie, I'm not lying to you."

"That's not one of the options," Lassiter shook his head. "Are you a liar and a con man, or just a liar?"

"No, Lassie, I'm not either," Shawn could feel the panic starting to form in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not lying to you and I'm not a con man," he paused, realizing that in reality he was lying to Lassiter about not lying about things. "Lassie, you need me to help you,"

"You keep saying that but all I can tell is that you're a homeless person, with no money, no ID and a bottomless pit for a stomach. Why do you need to help me?"

"I'll call the chief if you don't!" Shawn threatened.

Lassiter picked up the handset for the radio and offered it to Shawn, "go ahead, I'll have you arrested for interfering with police business." He raised an eyebrow as if daring Shawn to make the call.

Shawn slumped back down in the seat, "Lassie, you need me to help you, because this could all end in a hail of bullets. Bullets hurt, man. I should know I've been shot before." He didn't care if there was slight desperation in his voice, he was beginning to feel like this whole time travel thing had been for nothing.

"Spencer, if that is your name," Lassiter frowned, "I am not going to get shot."

"Yes you are! You're going to go in there and get yourself shot and then I'll have to solve cases with my girlfriend and your girlfriend," Shawn protested.

Lassiter gave him a confused look and opened his mouth to reply when a shout was heard from down the street. Both men looked out the windshield and saw a man running across the street down the block, gun in hand.

More yelling was heard and another figure darted across the street after the first one. Lassiter unbuckled his seatbelt and checked his sidearm.

"Lassie, woah," Shawn snapped out of his daze and realized what the cop was about to do. "Easy there, c'mon think about this!" Shawn grabbed at Lassiter's sleeve. "You don't have any backup!"

Lassiter shook him off, "I won't need any backup, this is just a routine check for possible public disturbance." With that he got out of the car.

Shawn jerked against the cuffs again, "Lassie! Lassie!" He yelled through the closed door of the car. He flopped back down in the seat and tried to get his hand out of the cuffs. Watching helplessly as the cop disappeared down the street.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

After five minutes of struggling, Shawn was preparing himself mentally to break his thumb if it would get him out of the cuffs. Although, he still hadn't come up with a plan to help Lassiter that involved only one hand.

"It'll heal," Shawn assured himself, for the twelfth time, as he looked at his hand.

"Spencer, what the hell are you doing?" Ghost Lassiter appeared in the driver's seat, giving Shawn a panicked look.

Shawn jumped and glared at him, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You have to go help. The last time, I ran in after Chavez I got pegged in the chest!" Lassiter looked towards the building.

"I would go help, but I'm kind of stuck." Shawn jerked on the cuffs again to emphasize his point.

"Why would I handcuff you to my car?" Lassiter looked concerned then he narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"

"You did this," Shawn pointed with his free hand. "I went to get a burger and you decided to look me up in the system and you figured out that I don't actually exist."

"Why didn't you pretend to be someone who does exist?" Lassiter frowned.

"Because," Shawn was still struggling against the cuffs, "Because my Uncle Jack and I look nothing alike. His hair is awful, especially in 1994."

A gunshot was fired in the direction of the Reyes building.

"Lassie, you have to help me out of these cuffs," Shawn pleaded, "I can't go back to a world where I work with Lucinda Barry."

"I can't actually touch you, and if you think I'm stupid enough to keep a key to my own handcuffs in my car, then you're crazy." Lassiter said exasperatedly.

Shawn started digging around in the glove box, "what about something I can pick the lock with?"

"Why do you know how to pick the lock on a pair of handcuffs?" Lassiter cocked his head to the side.

"Don't ask," Shawn had found a spiral bound notebook in the glove box and was working on getting the binding out.

It took almost a minute for Shawn to finagle his way out of the cuffs, he left them attached to the car door and started running for the Reyes building.

He slowed as he got closer, trying to make his footfalls as silent as possible. There was no sign of Lassiter and Shawn was just hoping that the gunshot earlier hadn't been the fatal one.

They would need backup, Shawn realized and reached in his pocket for his cell phone. "Right, it's 1994," he whispered when he felt nothing in his pocket. "It's just you and me Lassifrass,"

He edged his way around the building, trying to find some kind of entrance. A small door near a loading dock was ajar and Shawn slipped in, hoping that he wasn't too late to stop Lassiter from becoming a ghost for a second time.


	5. Chapter 5

The warehouse was dark and musty and Shawn had to wait a few minutes for his eye to adjust. He could hear movement on the other side and thankfully there were enough crates and random pieces of machinery around that he would probably be able to sneak over there unnoticed.

The closer he got the more apparent it became that there were two people arguing on that side of the warehouse. Their accents were Hispanic, but Shawn couldn't say he was really surprised by that.

"We'll just shoot him and leave him here," one voice said to another.

"Chavez, we can't shoot a cop," the other voice protested, sounding worried, "others will come looking for him."

"That's never stopped us before, amigo," the one called Chavez said sharply.

Shawn peeked around the crate and was relieved to see that the two Reyes members had their backs to him. On the other side of them, Lassiter was propped up against another set of crates. He didn't appear to be shot, but he was unconscious.

Shawn wasn't sure if he would be able to drag Lassiter's dead weight across the warehouse and back to the car, but getting him away from the Reyes seemed like the best way to keep him from getting shot.

He was in the middle of trying to come up with a diversion plan that didn't involve Gus, when the two Reyes members started talking again.

"I think he'll be out for a while," the second voice said uncertainly. "Armando will be upset if we don't show up for the thing." He gave a meaningful inflection to 'thing'.

"That cop can't hear us if he's out," Chavez gave a half laughed, then added seriously, "but you're right; we should head over to the drop."

"Spencer!"

Shawn jumped as Ghost Lassiter was suddenly beside him. He glared at the spirit and then put a finger to his lips, pointing to the Reyes.

"They can't hear me," Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I was going to tell you that the last time I wasn't clocked over the back of my head. This is different. Maybe you'll change history after all."

Shawn tried to listen to Lassiter and at the same time keep an eye on the Reyes.

"Well don't just sit there," Lassiter snapped at him. "You need to get me out of here."

It took all of his self-control for Shawn not to yell at the ghost for scaring him again. Ghost Lassiter really had a bad habit of doing that. Maybe he was making up for all the times that Shawn had done it to the real Lassiter. 'Damn it, Spencer it's like watching people sleep,' Shawn could hear the detective's gruff voice in the back of his head.

He took a silent, deep breath and counted to seven - His mom had always told him to count to ten, but Shawn never could keep track past seven. Then he turned to give Lassiter a stern glare.

Lassiter gave an unapologetic shrug and looked back to the Reyes members.

Just about the time that Shawn realized his legs were starting to get incredibly stiff from crouching behind the crates, a car horn honked from outside the warehouse.

"Armando," one whispered to the other.

"He won't want to be kept waiting, vamanos,"

With that they both left using a door across the room from the loading dock Shawn had used to enter. This gave Shawn very little time to move Lassiter.

"Lassie," he whispered at the ghost, "make yourself useful. If they come back in you need to tell me."

Ghost Lassiter rolled his eyes, "Roger that, Spencer."

Shawn darted out from behind the crates. He grabbed at the unconscious officer's arms and tried dragging him out of sight.

"If you throw my back out dragging me around like that I'll throttle your neck," Ghost Lassiter snapped, walking alongside him.

"I'll make sure to recommend a good chiropractor," Shawn grunted and then shifted so his arms were under Lassiter's armpits. He successfully got him out of sight, but not very far from where the Reyes had left him. They would be found immediately if the two men came back now.

"Lassie," Shawn whispered, shaking the man. "Lassie, you need to wake up. I have the upper body strength of a seventh grade girl and I can't carry you all the way back to the car." He glanced around to make sure the Reyes weren't coming back. Then shook Lassiter again. When the cop still wouldn't wake up, Shawn braced himself and then gave him a slap across the face.

"Spencer! No abusing me! Slapping won't help my possible concussion," Ghost Lassiter objected.

Shawn ignored him and focused on the unconscious Lassiter.

The other man stirred and slowly opened his eyes, "What happened?" He mumbled, trying to rub his face where Shawn had slapped him.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Shawn whispered, "but I'd really like to ask you in your car rather than in a gang infested warehouse." He held out a hand to pull Lassiter up.

"I think they chloroformed me," Lassiter tried getting to his feet, almost falling when they wouldn't support him.

Shawn caught him before he fell. "Easy there, you haven't had time to build up your tolerance yet."

Lassiter gave him a confused look as he steadied himself, "tolerance?" He paused, thinking, "you know, Spencer, that's actually a good idea."

Shawn braced himself for the world to end. Lassiter had called one of his ideas good, and based on what Shawn knew, he would actually put it to use. Thankfully there were no lightning strikes or rumbles of thunder from overhead and once Shawn got Lassiter steadied a little, they started across the warehouse.

As they got closer to the door, Shawn happily found he was supporting less and less of Lassiter's weight. "Almost there, Lassie," Shawn whispered.

They were about fifteen feet from the door, when it started to open. Shawn shoved Lassiter behind some crates and looked around to find a place to hide himself.

"Armando is going to be pissed when he finds out we have a cop. You know he wanted to stay under the radar." The men from earlier were coming back. They caught sight of Shawn. Both of them stopped and stared at the psychic as he stood there.

"Hey!" Chavez was the first to recover from the shock of seeing a complete stranger in the warehouse.

The shout shook Shawn out of his own daze and he bolted to the right, the opposite direction from where he had pushed Lassiter, and ran for cover.

There was shouting in Spanish and Shawn didn't have to know any of the words to understand that the two men were going after him. He dodged between crates and machinery, trying to avoid being caught.

He had no idea what Lassiter was doing, either of them. He threw a glance over his shoulder and didn't see the crate ahead of him, he ran headlong into it and winced as he was thrown to the floor.

"Don't just lie there, get up and run!" Ghost Lassiter was back, looking behind Shawn.

"What does it look like I'm trying to do, Lassie?" Shawn shouted back at him, getting to his feet. He headed to his left, trying to draw the Reyes away from the flesh and blood version of Lassiter.

"What?" Lassiter's voice came carrying across the warehouse. "Spencer, I don't think now is the time to be yelling."

"I'm not yelling at you!" Shawn shouted at him, scrambling over a pile of collapsed boxes. He ducked instinctively as he heard gunshots behind him.

"Spencer, stop yelling, you're going to get the other me caught," Ghost Lassiter was following Shawn as he ducked under a low hanging pulley.

"He's yelling at me!" Shawn snapped. "Go away!"

The Reyes had split up and Shawn found himself confronted with Chavez.

"Seriously?" Shawn was slightly out of breath and exasperated.

"No, place to run, chica," the man grinned.

"Chica is such a strong, genderly misplaced word," Shawn told him, backing up. He suddenly swiveled and tried to go back the way he had come, only to find the way blocked by the other Reyes member. The crates over his head were too tall to think about climbing.

"We don't know who you are, but you picked the wrong building to snoop in," the shorter Reyes member grinned and aimed his gun at Shawn.

Shawn saw Lassiter standing behind the gang member, "Lassie! Now would be a great time for you to be the real one."

The short one glanced over his shoulder, "there's no one there, amigo."

Lassiter shrugged and waved his arm so it passed through the gang member. "Sorry, Spencer, there's nothing I can do," he gave an apologetic look.

"A guy can't catch a break, can he, Lassie?" Shawn's face fell.

"Lassie?" The Reyes members chorused, the one lowering his gun slightly.

"Yes, Lassie," Shawn was going to try to buy time by monologuing. "Carlton Lassiter, the most bad ass cop Santa Barbara will ever see."

Chavez gave a snort of disbelief, "Lassiter, you mean that rookie we clocked?"

"Yes, that rookie," Lassiter's voice came from behind Shawn and there was a grunt and Shawn swiveled to see Chavez fall to the ground. Lassiter was holding a length of pipe.

The other Reyes member regained his senses and fired, completely missing Shawn, but what Shawn saw next made his heart stop. Lassiter dropped his pipe and grabbed his left shoulder, grimacing in pain.

"No!" Shawn turned on the remaining gang member. He summoned all the moves he had learned in his four and a half classes of karate and lunged for the gun. He managed to shove it upwards and in a stroke of luck his elbow connected with the Reyes member's face. There was blood and a lot of swearing. The man's grasp on the gun slipped and Shawn was able to get a decent grip on it.

"I have worked too long and too hard to save this cop's life, and I will not have you ruin it." Shawn was breathing heavily and his hand was shaking slightly.

"Spencer," Lassiter came up next to him, the shoulder of his uniform wet with blood. "Don't shoot him." He said, wincing in pain.

"I'm not going to shoot, him," Shawn assured Lassiter. When he saw the Reyes member smirk, Shawn narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the pistol. "Probably," he added.

"Do you know how to tie someone up with a belt?" Lassiter pulled his department regulation belt out of its loops.

Shawn nodded and handed Lassiter the gun and then took the belt. After he'd gotten the Reyes member subdued, which included a few choice threats from Lassiter to get the man to cooperate, Shawn turned to the rookie.

"Lassie, we need to call for an ambulance, that shoulder will need to be looked after," Shawn told him.

Lassiter nodded, wincing, "I'll head back to the car and radio for backup."

"That's ridiculous, you absolutely will not," Shawn told him. "You're in no condition to walk."

"I can walk just fine, Spencer," Lassiter growled. "Speaking of, we never really got to finish our conversation about your real name."

"Would a man lying about his name, pick the lock on his handcuffs and run blindly into a Reyes infested hideout to save you?" Shawn avoided answering Lassiter by posing a question of his own.

Lassiter opened his mouth to object, but was cut off by a swarm of uniformed cops busting through the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Once the cops had cleared the building, a detective came over to them. Shawn recognized him as a brown noser named Aarons from hanging around the station with his dad.

"What the hell happened, Lassiter?" His eyes flicking between the two Reyes members on the floor and Lassiter's shoulder.

"Investigated some suspicious activity," Lassiter said, motioning with his good hand. "Found these two, the one there got off a lucky shot. I think it just grazed me, though."

"That's a lot of blood for it being grazed," Shawn muttered, still not entirely convinced he'd kept Lassiter from getting killed.

"Who is this?" Aarons had just noticed Shawn for the first time.

"Henry Spencer's brother," Lassiter didn't even bat an eye. "Helped me out in a big way. Now where is the damn ambulance, a cop could bleed out standing here."

Aarons hauled the conscious Reyes member to his feet and took both him and Lassiter towards one side of the building.

Shawn knew if he had to give any statements about what had happened Lassiter would find out the truth about how many brothers his dad actually had. He made sure that Lassiter wasn't paying attention, Shawn doubted he could see through the swarm of cops and EMTs. Then he slipped out one of the doors and headed away from all the cops.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Shawn got about a block away from the warehouse before he looked back. No one was chasing after him. He had saved Lassiter's life. He grinned to himself and then the smile faltered. If he had saved Lassie's life, shouldn't he be going home now? He could feel a small twist in his stomach. What if he never went back? There was no way he could just live his life in 1994. How would he cope without Gus, or watching the way the light glinted off Juliet's hair when she was irritated, or gluing Lassie's desk drawer shut? He supposed he could still glue Lassie's drawer shut, but it wouldn't be the same without Gus to keep watch.

He sat down under a tree and watched the warehouse some more. Maybe he had left too soon. Maybe the EMTs would nick one of Lassiter's veins and he would bleed out on the ride to the hospital. Maybe this was like the movie, The Time Machine, where Lassie had to die no matter how many times Shawn tried to stop it. He chewed his lip. Maybe Lassiter was still going to die.

"Thank you," a quiet voice murmured to Shawn's right.

Shawn was so exhausted that he didn't even jump at Ghost Lassiter's sudden appearance. "Lassie, seriously, stop it with the creeping up on people." He tried to sound irritated, but he just couldn't do it.

"I can't help it if my footfalls are silent," the ghost grumbled. He sighed and then repeated himself. "Thank you."

Shawn nodded stiffly, "well, you know, since I was in the neighborhood and all, I figured I should help you out."

"Do you think your life will go back to annoying the crap out of me?" Lassiter asked. Shawn could hear a note of hopefulness in his voice.

"What makes you think I annoy the crap out of you in my normal life?" He turned to look at the ghost.

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking that?"

"Right," Shawn muttered, "you're Lassie, too."

"Do you think you'll go back to normal?" Lassiter asked again.

"I think so," Shawn shrugged, "if I can ever get back there." He dug in the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

Shawn could hear the noise from the warehouse. He heard sirens as the ambulance, probably the one carrying Lassiter, sped away.

"Am I really going to marry Victoria Parker?" Lassiter broke the silence that washed over them.

Shawn nodded, "probably, you really do like her though."

"She's going to break my heart, isn't she," Lassiter said softly.

"Probably," Shawn nodded again. "You're also probably going to grow a mustache that belongs on Tom Selleck's face and you're probably going to be accused of murdering Chavez in the middle of the station."

"And by probably you mean it will happen," Lassiter sighed. "My life sounds like it sucks."

"No," Shawn shook his head. "I mean, there are parts of your life that suck, and there are times where you look really unhappy. But you're part of the team, Lassie. A part that I missed when you weren't there. I mean, I wouldn't travel back in time for just anyone."

There was no answer and Shawn glanced over to see if the ghost was glaring at him for being all sappy and emotional, but Lassiter wasn't there. He looked around the tree and even called out Lassiter's name a couple times, but there was no answer.

"Seriously, Lassie, this isn't funny," Shawn complained, then he thought for a second. Maybe Ghost Lassie has disappeared because he'd actually done it, he'd actually changed history back to normal.

"Spencer!"

Shawn heard his name being called and whipped his head around to see who it was, succeeding in smacking his head into the tree he'd been sitting under. The world went black, but he could swear he heard bells ringing.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

The bells were still ringing and they were really, really loud. Shawn winced and slowly opened his eyes. Maybe he'd dreamt the whole adventure at the warehouse and that was just Lassie's alarm going off again. He braced himself, expecting the cop to yell at him, yank away his blankets and send him crashing to the floor.

The yelling never came, but the bells would not stop ringing. That was when Shawn realized the ringing was his cell phone. It was his ringtone for Juliet specifically. He scrambled up, his eyes going wide when he realized that he was standing in the middle of the Psych office.

His phone finally went silent and as Shawn looked for it, he heard the beep letting him know that there was a voice mail waiting.

He found his phone was underneath a stack of files and magazines on his desk and Shawn quickly checked the message.

_"Hi, Shawn, it's me. There was a robbery at Candyopolis and the chief wants to bring Psych in to consult. I'm heading down to the scene now. I'll call Gus next in case you're with him. See you there!"_

Juliet's message was exactly the same as the one she had left him when Shawn had been out getting smoothies with Gus. Before he had gone to the crime scene to find Detective Barry there.

Shawn wasted no time sending Gus a quick text that he was heading down to the crime and scene. Then he was out the door and starting up his bike.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Gus was just getting out of the blueberry as Shawn parked his bike at the candy store.

"Shawn!" Gus gave a wave and jogged over to him. "Is everything okay? I thought we were meeting for smoothies this morning."

"No time to explain, Gus," Shawn almost ran towards the store. "I just need to check on something."

"Shawn!" Gus' voice was annoyed this time as Shawn darted under the crime tape.

The crime scene was exactly as it had been the last time Shawn had solved this case. The clerk was on the floor, shot in the chest.

"I want you to get me the surveillance footage," Juliet was talking to McNab. She waved Shawn and Gus over when she saw them, sending McNab on his way.

"Jules," Shawn was looking all over the crime scene for a familiar salt and pepper haired head.

"Hey, guys, call came in around ten. We've got the clerk on the floor," Juliet started laying out the scene for them.

"Yeah, yeah Anthony Riley," Shawn nodded. "The kid from the back did it. Don't worry about the cameras, they aren't hooked up."

"That was specific," Gus frowned at Shawn.

"Really specific," Juliet agreed. "Is everything okay, Shawn? You didn't answer your phone this morning. I wasn't sure you were going to be here."

"I'm fine, just overslept," Shawn flashed her a smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Lassie?" He braced himself for the questioning looks and then concerned tones.

"Spencer, you've given your assumption of the crime scene, now make like a drumstick and beat it. I'd like to get some actual police work done today."

Shawn had never in his life been so happy to hear the gruff, snarky voice of Head Detective Carlton Lassiter. He turned to see Lassiter, in a suit, walking towards him an annoyed look on his face.

"Lassiepants!" Shawn threw his arms out and closed the few feet distance between them. He wrapped his arms around the detective, giving him a hug.

Lassiter immediately stiffened, "Spencer," he growled.

"Yes, Lassie?" Shawn's voice was muffled against the grey fabric of the suit jacket.

"What in the name of Sweet Lady Justice are you doing?" Lassiter finally succeeded in prying the psychic off. He dusted off his jacket as if Shawn had transferred dirt onto it.

"I was giving you a hug," Shawn grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets, "You looked like you needed one and I was happy to oblige." He was ecstatic and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Lassiter rolled his eyes and waved for McNab, "since you've given us your vision, or whatever the hell that was, you can leave."

Shawn let McNab escort him and Gus from the crime scene, giving a wave to Juliet and Lassiter. "I'll see you guys later, at the station. I'll expect a check when the guy in the back confesses!"

"Shawn, what was that? You could have been shot." Gus hissed as they headed back to their respective vehicles.

"I had the most bizarre dream last night, buddy. Seriously, I dreamt of a world without Lassie." Shawn shuddered as he thought about his experiences. It felt like he'd been gone for days, but no time had passed at all.

"A world without Lassiter? That sounds kind of nice actually," Gus mused, unlocking his car.

"Shut your face, Gus," Shawn snapped, frowning. "A world without Lassiter means a world where you and I have to play golf on the weekends with a guy who married Lucinda Barry."

Gus raised an eyebrow, "right, are we getting smoothies or not?"

"We are, and then we're going to the station to pick up our check," Shawn decided, swinging a leg over his bike. "Jamba Juice?" He asked, slipping on his helmet.

"You know that's right," Gus agreed.

OoO OoO OoO OoO

Two Jamba Juice smoothies and a soft pretzel later, Shawn and Gus were walking through the station. Shawn couldn't help but grin as he saw everyone's desks in the correct places and the nameplates bearing their correct names.

"You're in a happy mood today," Juliet commented as Shawn presented her with her own smoothie. "I was worried after you didn't call last night."

"I must have eaten something weird at that new Chinese place by the Psych office," Shawn was still smiling.

"I told you that the quotation marks around seafood weren't there for emphasis," Gus muttered.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," Juliet gave Shawn's hand a squeeze.

This public display of affection earned a not so subtle cough and an eyeroll from Lassiter, who was working at his desk.

"Something wrong, Lassie?" Shawn quirked an eyebrow.

"You know damn well what, Spencer," the detective growled, stacking a few papers together and standing.

"Well, I'm sorry you're a bitter, divorced detective who hates to see people in love," Shawn gave Juliet a kiss on the cheek just to annoy him.

"And you're a pain in the ass, just like your uncle." Lassiter called over his shoulder as he headed for the front desk shaking his head.

Gus gave a laugh, "Lassiter clearly doesn't know your Uncle Jack," he checked his watch. "I gotta run and finish up my route. We still on for the tournament tonight?" He looked between Juliet and Shawn.

"Hungry Hungry Hippos it is," Shawn agreed, "as long as you agree to stop tilting the table and cheating."

Gus made a noise of disgust at the idea that he would cheat, and headed for the door.

"I've got to get these reports filed," Juliet picked up a stack of folders. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Shawn, see you tonight."

"See you," Shawn echoed as she headed for the evidence room.

Lassiter made his way back from the front desk. He scowled when he saw Shawn sitting on Juliet's desk. "You're still here?" He asked, annoyed.

"Just on my way out the door," Shawn assured him. He headed past the detective's desk and then doubled back. "Hey, Lassie,"

"What?" Lassiter asked exasperatedly, looking up from his files.

"Before, when you said I'm just like my uncle, you mean my Uncle Jack, right?" Shawn tilted his head to the side.

"The treasure hunter? Of course not, Spencer, you're practically a carbon copy of your other uncle. The one you're named after." Lassiter snapped, putting together another stack of folders.

Shawn watched in shock as Lassiter headed down the stairs to the file room. "But, Lassie," Shawn called softly, knowing the detective wouldn't be able to hear him, "I don't have another uncle."


End file.
